Page 28

Athanasios

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

I shouldn't wait for her inside the room, but I do. I sit on the bed while Brooklyn uses the bathroom, listening carefully for when she'll return.

She doesn’t take more than two minutes, but when she sees me, it’s as if she’s stopped breathing. Every reaction she has to me pulls me even deeper into her.

I wasn’t lying when I told her I’m used to older women who know every trick in the book when it comes to seduction. Brooklyn, on the other hand, is raw—everything about her is spontaneous: fear, anger, joy, or like now, desire.

My eyes trace her body again, but this time, I map her slowly. Without me saying a word, she walks toward me, stopping between my thighs.

"We need to go back outside," she says.

I nod in agreement but don’t move. Instead, I trail a finger along her leg, starting at her knee and stopping where her shorts begin.

Her breathing picks up, and she steadies herself by placing her hands on my shoulders.

I pull her closer and guide her to straddle my lap. Our faces are mere inches apart, our breaths mingling, but I don’t kiss her—not yet.

Gripping her hips, I press her down against my hardness, the thin fabric of her shorts and my swimming trunks the only barriers between us.

She moans and grinds against me, her movements growing more insistent. Without breaking eye contact, she rolls her hips.

"So fucking sexy." I grip her tighter, guiding her movements faster, giving her what she needs. She throws her head back, surrendering to the pleasure I’m giving her.

I slide a hand beneath her sweater, running my fingers along her spine, and she locks her legs around my waist.

"What do you want?"

"I don’t know."

"You do know, but you’re too shy to say it. I’m going to teach you how to ask for everything you want in bed, Brooklyn."

She lowers her gaze. "Touch me," she whispers. "Every part of me is burning to be touched by you."

I let her go just long enough to pull off my polo shirt and then begin to do the same with her sweater.

"I don’t?—”

"I want to see you. We can go as slow as you want, but I need to see those gorgeous tits."

She relaxes her hands, letting me remove her sweater, but I leave her bra on. Brooklyn is still new to this—she’s inexperienced, despite already being a mother.

"Do you want my hands on you?"

She nods.

"Where?"

She takes my hand and presses it against her stomach, just below her breasts.

I claim her mouth, coaxing her to let me possess her with my tongue, mirroring the slow, deep rhythm of the pleasure I want to give her. She responds by clawing at my chest and moaning loudly. It’s almost a battle, both of us trying to take everything we can from the other.

Her fingers tangle in my hair, pulling hard, and I love the raw intensity of her desire.

I unhook her bra and groan as her hard nipples press against my chest. Gripping her slim waist, I lift her slightly, driven by the primal urge to mark her with my teeth.

I take her breast into my mouth, swirling my tongue over one nipple and then the other, but it’s not enough. I cup both with my hands, reveling in the warmth and softness of her skin.

She whimpers, and the sound shatters the last bit of control I have.

I unzip her shorts, lowering them just enough to leave them clinging to her thighs. My movements are deliberate, giving her a chance to stop me if she wants.

But she doesn’t stop me. Instead, she grips my hair tighter, showing me how much she wants this too, urging me on.

I slide my hand into her panties, no hesitation, no warning.

My fingers glide through her wetness, and when I find her soaked core, my mouth waters with the urge to taste her.

"You’re so wet for me. You want to feel my cock stretching you, don’t you? You want me deep inside you?"

"Ahhh . . .”

I close my eyes as I touch her clit, firm and swollen with need, for the first time. She trembles in my arms, desperate and needy.

I rub slow circles over her sensitive nub, and her moans grow louder.

Brooklyn digs her nails into my shoulders, but then, as if regretting it, she starts to soothe the scratches with gentle strokes.

"No. Don’t stop. Bite me. Scratch me if you want to. I don’t want the good girl—I want the wild woman. You’re going to come on my fingers, my cock, and my tongue. You’re going to show me with your body how much you’re enjoying this."

I press my thumb against her clit, making slow, firm circles, while sliding a finger deep inside her heat.

Fuck, she’s so tight.

I push my finger all the way in, and she cries out, her hips rocking instinctively.

"You want more, don’t you? You want to feel full, want my fingers getting you ready for my cock?"

I add another finger, thrusting faster and deeper, never stopping the rhythm against her clit.

Brooklyn is so responsive, so sensitive, and it doesn’t take long before I can feel her teetering on the edge of release.

She rides my hand, uninhibited and wild, chasing her pleasure until she tips over into a long, shuddering climax.

As much as I want to strip her shorts off and make her come on my tongue, I know I won’t be able to stop if I start. Instead, I pull her shorts back up, zipping and fastening them gently.

She collapses against me, her face flushed and glowing from her release.

I drag my fingers, still slick with her arousal, across her lips before claiming her mouth in a deep kiss, savoring her taste.

"You’re perfect, Brooklyn."

"Hmmm . . .”

"I’ve never had an addiction before, but I think I could develop one to those sounds you make."

She buries her face in my chest, clearly embarrassed.

I lie back on the bed, pulling her on top of me. "Rest. I’ll take you home soon."

"What about you?" she murmurs, her lips brushing against my nipple. "I didn’t . . . we didn’t . . .”

"Coming once wouldn’t satisfy me. I want to fuck you all night. If I start now, we won’t leave this room."

She stays silent, and I have no idea what’s going through her head. I’ve never experienced anything like what happened today. My past lovers always knew exactly where we were heading, taking what they needed. Brooklyn’s innocence is a new, uncharted territory for me.

So I’m caught completely off-guard when, later, after we get into the car to head back to the beach house, she rests her hand on my thigh while I drive.

If it were any other woman, I’d take it as an invitation for sex, but with her, it feels like something deeper. She wants connection.

"Today was amazing," she says, and when I glance over at her, she’s smiling shyly.

"All of it?"

"Yes."

"Did I scare you?"

"On the boat?"

"Yes."

"I’m not a child. I . . . I liked it. I loved everything you did to me."

"You’re not a doll, Brooklyn. It’s not just about what I want to do to you; it’s about you discovering your own body, too. You’re not just going to sit there taking it. You’re going to ride me hard, tell me when you want me to lick or suck your clit, beg me to spank that sexy ass when I take you from behind."

Her hand grips my thigh tighter, her breathing growing louder. "You’re dirty in bed."

It’s not a question, but even so, I lay it all out for her, making sure she knows exactly what she’s getting into. "I won’t deny it. I don’t fuck soft."

Her grip tightens, her nails digging into my leg.

"Keep that up, and I’ll pull over and fuck you right here in the car. I’m this close to losing control, Brooklyn."

"Teach me," she whispers, and hearing her beg makes my blood boil. "I’m scared to give myself to you, but I’m more scared of not giving this a chance and spending the rest of my life wondering what it would’ve been like."